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This meal is so sweet

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Dean leaned in, looking at the highly annotated paper that he'd tacked to the cabinet just at his eyeline; a crease formed between his brows as his attention alternated between the recipe and the ingredients in front of him on the counter.

"Do you want me to help?" Pharm asked, starting to shift off the stool where he'd been watching Dean prep their meal. "I can help."

Dean's finger hovered over the sheet. He read the notes before turning and looking at Pharm, at the way Pharm's fingers twitched as though they were itching to assist. Dean smiled, his face softening as he moved closer, leaned in and kissed Pharm – first a quick peck, followed by a longer kiss that ended with a satisfying hum from both of them. "Just sit. Grandma gave me excellent notes."

Pharm's smile brightened at the mention of An's name. "Okay." He leaned up for one more kiss, which Dean provided, before folding his hands on the countertop and watching as Dean returned to making their dinner.

Dean chopped and shredded, boiled and sauteed, referring to the recipe and following it to the letter – occasionally pausing to ask Pharm a question about a technique, or to sneak a quick kiss, or to look over his shoulder at his boyfriend and inform-ask him if he knew how cute he was and to grin indulgently at Pharm's "P'Dean."

"This looks delicious," Pharm said as they set the food on the table.

"I hope so," Dean said, sitting down across from Pharm. He looked down at the dishes and with a sigh he added, "Let's eat."

They plated their food, occasionally catching one another's eye and smiling. Pharm raised the spoon to his mouth for his first bite and Dean waited, spoon and fork held above his plate. His eyebrows raised in question.

"It's good," Pharm said. "You followed instructions well."

Dean grinned, "To the letter," he said and took his first bite.


Later, as Pharm returned to the kitchen, their dishes in hand, he saw the paper still on the cabinet door. He leaned up to retrieve it and scanned An's notes detailing times and tips – the knowledge of a lifetime of cooking – and a few small notes she'd written, encouraging her grandson to ask Pharm for advice if he needed (and even if he didn't). He grinned.

And then there were the other notes, written in Dean's hand – annotations of whether there'd be enough time to steal a kiss or if there'd only be time to flirt from afar.

"Did I do a good job?" Dean asked, setting his dishes on the counter. His eyes dropped to the paper in Pharm's hand and as he looked back up for approval, his ears flushed red-pink.

"It was perfect." Pharm answered, resting one hand on Dean's shoulder.

Together they looked down at the recipe and at the final notation at the bottom.

Ask Pharm for dessert.

"Well?" Pharm said, turning his attention back to Dean.

"May I?" Dean asked, his eyes dropping to Pharm's mouth.

"Of course."

Pharm rested his other hand on Dean's shoulder and held tight as Dean hitched under his arms and he lifted him onto the countertop.

Dean leaned in, smiling, a dimple creasing his cheek as his attention remained solely focused on his boyfriend seated on the counter in front of him.

"Let me help," Pharm said, pulling Dean those last few inches into a kiss.